She nodded, unable to speak as another contraction struck. The next several contractions were the hardest, Lizzy's discomfort increasing as the infant hesitantly responded to the physician's persistent direction. Mrs. Henderson was mesmerized, having never witnessed such a procedure, Dr. Darcy explaining the technique in quiet undertones as he worked.
Lizzy strained with the effort, releasing loud grunts and intermittent yells of pain. Darcy held his breath as she did, Jane also unconsciously mimicking the behavior. The room was quiet except for Lizzy's vocalizations and the sonorant urgings of Darcy. He held her enveloped in his arms with her back pressed to his chest, steady hands supporting her arms as she pulled on her thighs with each forceful squeeze.
“Stupendous, Elizabeth!” the poised physician commented. “Keep your legs open, give him room. The baby has turned and is coming! A towel, Mrs. Hanford, quickly! Harder, Elizabeth, do not stop now even if the contraction wanes. Push him out! Lots of hair, oh yes. Ears, nose, mouth… now breathe for a moment, dear, good girl, let me wipe the face, clear the mucus… Now again, Elizabeth! Let's get those broad Darcy shoulders out… the widest part of all… Yes! Here we are… Ha! A boy! Most definitely a boy!”
George's laugh was lost in the general mayhem bursting forth. Elizabeth collapsed onto her husband, tears of relief and joy springing to weary eyes. Darcy was laughing and crying, eyes glued to the draped knees of his wife while bestowing kisses to her head and hugging so tightly that if she was any more coherent she may have complained. Jane clapped with joy, Mrs. Henderson reached for the thick string to tie about the umbilical cord, Mrs. Reynolds proclaimed the time as 7:59 p.m. and bounced with delight, and Mrs. Hanford wept silently as she observed the initial movements of the newborn.
All of it was abruptly pierced by the lusty cry of a healthy set of newborn lungs, loudly protesting the overall treatment being inflicted upon him. George lifted the squalling babe glistening with birth fluid and streaks of blood, still partially blue and attached to his mother with forehead wrinkled in consternation and flailing limbs, for his first inspection by adoring and already hopelessly in love parents.
“Young Master Darcy, meet your mama and papa!” George declared with pride, holding the wailing and utterly irritated and uninterested infant aloft for another few seconds before placing him onto the waiting warm blankets held by Mrs. Hanford and tying the cord. He spoke aloud while attending to the crying infant, “He is perfect. All ten fingers and toes, color pinking nicely, male anatomy as it should be, head a bit pointed but not too bad, ears well formed, mouth intact… oh, good suck already, typical Darcy, instantly demanding nourishment. Here, Mrs. Hanford, take him.”
Darcy buried his face into Lizzy's hair, body shaking as he sobbed and caressed her arms, hoarsely crooning, “Elizabeth, I love you so! He is beautiful, you are beautiful. Thank you, thank you, thank you… I love you. We have a son. A son! Our son… so amazing, you are amazing…”
Lizzy clutched his wrists, turning to capture his mouth for a desperately needed kiss. Their eyes met, radiant and overflowing with love. She smiled, kissed him again and then leaned onto his shoulder. “Beloved, go be with him. I want one of us to be near him giving comfort and it must be you. Please?”
He hesitated, glancing longingly toward the nanny then back to his wife. “I will stay with my sister, Mr. Darcy. Go to your son.”
“Jane, after the events of today, do you think you may be willing to address me by my Christian name?” Darcy grinned, Jane blushing and lowering her gaze.
Lizzy laughed softly. “Please, go to Alexander. Kiss him for me.”
“Of course.” He cupped her face, delivering another lingering kiss before moving away, relinquishing her to Jane's ministering presence.
Mrs. Hanford and Mrs. Reynolds knelt by the low table situated before the fire on which lay the wiggling babe. His wails continued, currently augmented by the indignity of a bath. Darcy knelt, teary eyes avidly scrutinizing his son.
“Congratulations, Mr. Darcy. He is beautiful.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. May I touch him?”
“Certainly!” the nanny said with a laugh. “He is yours, after all.”
Darcy beamed, hand reaching gingerly to stroke one finger over the baby's breastbone. Darcy caught his breath, freshly amazed at the velvet softness, personally never imagining any skin could be softer than his wife's. Laying his entire palm over the sturdy chest of his son, broad hand covering the whole breast and most of the abdomen with fingertips tickling under his chin. The frantic thrashing eased under the firm pressure, Darcy bending to bestow a kiss to the baby's damp forehead.
“Sweet Alexander, my son. This is your father speaking. That was from your mother, who loves you so very much. This…” and he kissed the downy cheek, “is from me. I also love you, my precious.” He continued the gentle crooning, the baby having calmed at the loving caresses and sound of the familiar voice. Darcy lifted inches to discover a pair of wide, cerulean blue eyes staring at him with studied intensity, tiny creases between the brows.
Darcy experienced an electrifying jolt rush through his body and his mouth fell open. Alexander, as if by purposeful intent, encountered his father's little finger and wrapped one chubby fist tightly around. Darcy stifled a sob, blinking furiously as the baby remained locked onto his face.
“He knows you, sir,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “Keep talking to him.”
He did, voice rough with choking emotion. Alexander's gaze wandered frequently, but inevitably returned to his father's shining visage and brilliant grin. The women worked diligently, cleaning thoroughly over all skin folds and body parts, scrubbing the mass of curly brown hair until lying in silken waves. In between the singsong droning, Darcy closely examined his son.
Alexander possessed his father's blue eyes but they were larger and rounder than his, like Elizabeth's, and set under a mildly prominent forehead. The nose was not exactly buttoned as Elizabeth's, but not broad and long as his; time would tell how it evolved. The thick eyebrows were totally Darcy's down to the frowning wrinkles and left arch. He did not have his father's chin cleft, but the overall shape was masculine with a sharp jawline. His fingers were long and hands wide, the feet matching in size. In fact his entire body was long and lean with sturdily defined muscles encased by unblemished ruddy skin. Not a single mark marred his flesh, only the mildly misshapen head preventing him from being flawless.
Darcy grasped one large foot, smiling as he murmured, “No wonder I could almost grip your feet, my darling.” He kissed the sole, nibbling briefly on the tiny toes, Alexander flinching and attempting to withdraw. “Ah, ticklish, are we?”
Alexander's answer to that inquiry was to release a forceful stream of urine, Darcy jerking backward and narrowly avoiding a blast to the face.
“What the…?” The women laughed loudly, Lizzy asking what was happening. “Our son tried to urinate on me! Well, at least we know that organ functions correctly.” The room erupted in laughter.
“He is clean now, Mr. Darcy. We need to dress him, protecting his nether regions before more accidents occur. I am sure his mother wants to see him soon.” Darcy's grin was nearly swallowing his face, turning to peer at his resplendent wife now in a clean gown and propped on fresh pillows while Jane brushed and replaited her hair. Their eyes held, volumes of unspoken emotion and sentiment passing between. In a few minutes the baby was diapered and wrapped loosely in a warm blanket sewn by Lizzy. Darcy carried him to Elizabeth, her arms extended in anticipation. Slowly the occupants filed from the chamber, Jane kissing her sister one last time on the temple and glancing shyly to Darcy.
“Congratulations, William,” she whispered.
Darcy beamed. “Thank you, Jane.”
Last was George. The proud great-uncle taking a moment to inspect the sleeping bundle of joy embraced against his weary mother's breast with jubilant and rather smug father encircling them both.
“Well done, you two, well done. He is lovely. Perfectly delivered, if I say so myself! William, ensure your wife rests. No staring at the baby all night in lieu of sleep. I will check on you later, dear. Notify me immediately if you feel strange in any way. Remember what we spoke of previously,” he said, directing the last comment to Darcy, who nodded.
“William, once you are alone, assist Elizabeth in placing Alexander on her chest. Keeping him naked against her bare flesh is the best place for him to be. He will stay warm and be very calm. Enjoy this time while he is awake.”
“When should I feed him, Uncle?” Elizabeth asked, not removing her adoring gaze from the rapt fascination
